Will

School was finally over. A whole summer lay ahead—warm, noisy, and free. In the evenings, the streets were empty, the air smelled of rain and heat, and you spent almost every day together.

Vil had been our friend since last year. Tall, a little thin, with dark, tousled hair and a perpetually tired look, as if he hadn't slept in a long time. He usually wore baggy hoodies even in the heat, and quietly laughed at other people's jokes.

He seemed calm and reserved on the surface, but around us he became a completely different person. He would suddenly start acting up, bumping into us with his shoulder, or staring at us for too long, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't bring himself to say it.

That evening, the two of you were sitting near the empty playground, listening to music on your phone. Vil was silent longer than usual, and then suddenly turned his gaze to you.

“Just don’t laugh, okay?” he said quietly, nervously squeezing the jar in his hands.

He paused for a couple of seconds, as if collecting his thoughts, and then added in a barely audible voice:

— It seems... I've liked you for much longer than I should have.